


That First Breakfast

by suqua (cwsunrise)



Series: Bunker!Boyfriends 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boyfriends, Bunker, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cwsunrise/pseuds/suqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Castiel's first morning as a human man, days after the gates of heaven and hell almost closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That First Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Sweet Breakfast. Breakfast is a thing, apparently. 
> 
> Written JUST prior to the season 8 finale.

When Castiel wakes for the first time after humanity hits him like a brick in the face, he's confronted with a number of human problems. All of which he can deal with...except for the hunger, considering he couldn't find recognizable food in the bunker. First of all, there's not much in the fridge by way of fresh food that Castiel is more than familiar with. He's a little surprised  considering Sam's usual love of greens and fruit. Everything is packaged, long-keeping and strange. Instead of examining everything in the kitchen, he goes to ask the person most likely to help him find food.

"Dean," Castiel calls from Dean's doorway. The door is ajar, but he stands on the other side of it wearing ill-fitting pajamas (his suit and coat, stained with blood, were no where to be found when he woke). He lifts a hand and presses against the door with his fingertips, peering through the slightly wider crack into the pitch blackness of Dean's room. 

He is about to poke the door again and maybe even step inside when a loud groan startles some goosebumps onto his arms. He peers down at the prickly sensation. He remembered the sensation from a long while back, one he had been a little alarmed by the first time, before looking up as the door swung open. 

Dean with bedhead is something of a sight, rubbing his eyes and making something of an unhappy face.

"You better've made me coffee," Dean grumbles, squinting at Castiel. "...Oh. Right. Uh...Hungry?"

Admitting it is harder than Castiel expects, the word yes stuck in his throat for a moment before he chooses a different one. "Famished," he said gently, a tiny attempt at a smile on his face.

He doesn't know if they're ever going to really talk about the situation. 

Dean gives him a head-toe look as he shuffles from the bedroom toward the kitchen. Castiel didn't know how long he'd been sleeping, but from the look of it, Dean hadn't gotten much himself. 

Castiel's only two words into the question when Dean responds, "Couple'a days, actually. Was gonna check on you when I woke up, but uh...Glad to see you're up. Sam's still sleeping. Sonuvabitch earned it." 

Considering the mood between them not too long ago, Castiel was not expecting quite as many words from Dean. He has a hard time responding, but manages. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says quietly, which earns him a full-on look from Dean as he's pulling a couple things from places Castiel hadn't  even looked for food. "...I don't know your kitchen or I would've let you continue sleeping."

It's pretty obvious that Dean didn't expect him to apologize for that, but oddly enough it earns him a smile. "S'okay, man. You need a good uh, breakfast."

It's fairly obvious they were both thinking. Castiel's first breakfast as a human being, made for him by Dean. 

Taking an out of the way seat at the kitchen island's bar stool, Castiel watches. Dean takes out a carton from the refrigerator and combines the liquid inside with cinnamon and brown sugar, Castiel leans over the kitchen island and tilts the carton toward him. "This is  _eggs_?" he asks, looking up at Dean with concern. 

That actually earns him a smile, Dean nods a little. "Yeah. Supposed to be healthier or some crap. Sam likes it." 

Dean coats slices of bread in the batter and fries it on the stove top, a warm scent spreading throughout the kitchen. Castiel remains at his perch, watching Dean over the island.

He's frying the second slice of what Castiel now knows is french toast for Castiel's plate when Castiel asks, "Did you hear me before? When I told you...?"

Dean freezes, body going rigid. His hand hovers, spatula about to flip the slice of bread over. "I...uh," he begins, voice faltering. Castiel continues to watch him, Dean nervously fidgeting the spatula between his fingers. 

When he turns, it's very slowly and his mouth moves like there's words stuck in his throat and he can't quite meet Castiel's eyes. 

"Dean," Castiel prods gently, careful blue eyes watching him. "I told you how I felt."

Swallowing, Dean looks down at his feet before forcing himself to look up, look at Castiel. "I heard you," he says, obviously nervous as hell but voice suddenly steady. "I was scared, Cas. I thought you were gonna..." He dips his head again, can't meet Castiel's eyes again. "I just-"

Castiel doesn't move yet, lets Dean speak. He'd spoken, at the gate, and now he was here. He remembered afterwards, the rip of his grace from his being. The intense separation of himself from himself before Castiel felt the angel part of him erase from existence until he blacked out. And now he was in the kitchen, watching Dean burn french toast.

"Burning," Castiel said quietly, to which Dean looked confused for a few seconds before he swore and turned around, flipping the burnt piece and then tossing it into the sink. 

Dean swears again, shaking his head. He grabs plate of a single piece of french toast and sets it in front of Castiel. "Go on, eat." 

Castiel eyed the french toast before tugging it toward him, to which Dean swears for the third time in less than that many minutes. "Hold on..." He shuffles around the kitchen, getting out a bottle of maple syrup and a bag of powdered sugar. He drizzles the syrup over the toast, then reaches into the bag and tosses a small handful on the top of the syrup. 

"Okay.  _Now_  you can eat it," Dean says with a sigh, wiping his hand off on his pajama pants. While Castiel cuts his fork into it, Dean pretends not to be interested in Castiel's first breakfast as a human, goes to pour a cup of coffee from the pot that's been sitting waiting for ten minutes. 

Syrup and powdered sugar drip and dust into his beard with the very first bite. He has a beard, he notices the scruff against his lips suddenly, remembers having a beard what feels like a long time ago.

He chews, swallows. His stomach already seems appreciative, his senses kicking in and telling him  _yes, more of that please_. He realizes that intoxication is the sweet scent of the food, the ache for food had been far worse than he realized and he began to eat in earnest. By the time it's gone and Castiel's wondering if he's allowed to lick the plate, he realizes Dean's got another slice ready for him. 

"Slow down," Dean says, a strange little smile quirking his mouth a little. "Plenty to eat, Cas."

It goes like this for a while until Castiel feels sated. The syrup had started to taste too sweet, achingly so, so he assumed that meant he was done. "Thank you, Dean," he says with one last lick in the corner of his mouth.

But for the last couple slices of french toast, Dean has spoken. He's not speaking now, a hand covering his mouth and he's obviously trying not to laugh. 

"What's funny?" Castiel inquires, to which Dean lifts a hand with a pointing finger and makes a circle around his own face. He shakes his head during the gesture, to which Castiel looks at Dean's face intensely before realizing he actually meant...

There's syrup all over Castiel's beard. He sighs, licking his lower lip. "I may have been overzealous."

- 

Castiel gets cleaned up, beard syrup-free and left as scruff. He breaks up the syrup with warm, soapy water and a washcloth and comes out to Dean washing the dishes and eating the last scrap of a cold piece of toast without his hands.

Dean's cheeks are full of toast when Castiel sees him and unbidden, a chuckle breaks from his mouth. Dean looks up, a bit startled and deer-in-headlights, swallowing the toast down. 

Wondering to himself if a human offered to help wash the dishes, Castiel takes the same seat at the island. Dean watches him for a second before he goes back to the dishes. There's Dean's cup of coffee still on the counter, close to Castiel, so he takes it and drinks. 

He considers himself caught when Dean speaks: "So," is all he says, though. flicking soap off of his hands as the water drains from the sink. He turns and is about to continue when he catches Castiel mid-sip, red-handed. Dean just stares and sighs and continues, "You asked me...if I heard you."

"Yes," Castiel answers automatically. His chest is pounding, but his thoughts haven't caught up to why.

Dean's gone a little pink across his face, his freckles brighten. "I...Yeah. I did. And it uh," he grins, nervous. "It honestly scares the hell out of me, Cas."

There's a trickle of fear with the heart-pounding now. 

Despite his obvious jitters, Dean continues: "But yeah. I'm sorry for Han Soloing you then, but you were kinda exploding so I don't even think you even heard me.. Er." He wets his lips, realizing he's derailing himself. "I-"

Castiel holds his breath. And isn't it a marvelous thing, breathing?

Dean blurts, "I love you, too." 

His mouth going dry, Castiel's human mind loses track of words and can barely function because he feels like he's going to collapse or cry or laugh. What a strange feeling. He's a little surprised at the prickle in his eyes, the way his feet find the floor and circle the island. 

Watching him approach, Dean's red-tinged cheeks are entirely too beautiful. All of Dean is beautiful. Castiel's memories are crowded and clogged but he can remember how to do this. How to hold Dean close and bring him into a kiss, to move his lips against Dean's, to curl his fingers into the hair behind Dean's ears.

Dean grabs onto Castiel's hips, an arm holding him desperately tight. 

The oxygen seems to have been vacuumed from the air, Castiel has to pull away to breathe eventually. He knew there was a way to elongate the amount of time they could do  _that_  and he was going to master it. He licks his lips, feels the tiniest tang of Dean there and wants to taste more. Dean watches him, that half-amazed, half-hungry look on his face something Castiel has never seen before. 

He wants to see it even  _more._

There's so much that Castiel suddenly wants, suddenly craves. Dean pulls him into a kiss while he's considering it, teeth finding Castiel's lower lip and isn't  _that_  interesting? Everything that Castiel's ever known in theory is suddenly of interest to test.

His lips are feeling a bit swollen, warm and they're leaning against the counter when Castiel next speaks. He slides his hand down Dean's back, smiling when it produces a shiver. "Dean," he says, voice a quiet rumble. "If that was your answer, I don't believe I should've woken in the guest bedroom."

 

**Author's Note:**

> These are definitely turning into a series of bitfics. #bitfics is the tag I sort my fics through on Tumblr.


End file.
